


Nurse & Soldier: Memories

by CrimsonFirebreeze



Series: Nurse and Soldier [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Character Study, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Illustrations, Love, One Shot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFirebreeze/pseuds/CrimsonFirebreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been working hard to recover his memories. Some days it works and some days he just can't remember anything. Most frustrating of all, the woman taking care of him is someone he knows, but he doesn't remember her either. Until one day, the memories come to him vividly and all he wants is to seek the comfort only she can give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nurse & Soldier: Memories

**Author's Note:**

> So this is some smutty goodness. And I have, with permission, added some illustrations from my dear friend, Randi, to make it awesome. 
> 
> Y'all might know her as n-a-blue-box over on Tumblr.
> 
> This is also posted to my Tumblr (AmpersandXVII)

**2014**

He was staring at her again. He did a lot of that already, as it was often his job to observe his surroundings, gather information without drawing attention to himself. It was how he learned about his targets; watching them, studying their movements, habits, patterns. Andy wasn't his target and he was no longer HYDRA's assassin. He was just curious about her.

He knew that he had known her a very long time ago. She said so, but moreover he saw flashes of her in his mind when fragmented memories flooded in. He was piecing it together slowly and that wasn't fast enough, even with the visual aids old photos and letters provided. But he knew for certain that he had known her and that she had been very important to him. Some days it was clear exactly who she was, why he felt at ease around her and why he felt the desire to let her hold him. Other days it was confusing and strange and he felt himself too far removed from her to let his guard down to trust her and he paced restlessly and tense until he exhausted himself. This cycle of remembering and forgetting was maddening.

[ ](http://n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com/post/82263441055/bucky-looking-at-old-photos-to-jog-his-memory)

Today, he knew her. And he was aware of how deep that knowledge of her went. He knew there was intimacy between them, that he had been allowed to taste what her body had to offer. That it hadn't been just once. It came to him in quick flashes; the taste of her mouth, her hands finding a way into his uniform, stolen moments between missions. As broken as the memories were, they were vivid enough to cause his body to yearn for it.

So he watched her, calculating, learning about her things only her body could tell him. He knew she loved him. Every gesture towards him was kind, her gazes tender and her voice warm. She was afraid of him also, keeping her distance even in close quarters and avoiding touching him unless he initiated it, watching him warily and her cautious movements. And she desired him. He observed her poorly masked appraisal of him, especially when he was without a shirt, the longing in her eyes apparent.

It was late and she hadn't come back at her usual time, which had unsettled him greatly. He had paced the length of her apartment, twirling a knife in his hand as he did, a nervous habit he'd developed. When he finally did sit down again, he still couldn't stop moving until she had walked through the door and he instantly relaxed at seeing her unharmed. She had then thrown together a fast dinner for them both and proceeded to be on the phone after, making important phone calls to foreign countries. She was pacing the same path he had earlier, a determined expression taking over her features as she rattled off in German. There was something intriguing about that to him. He knew she was fluent in it, Italian and French and that she spoke enough Vietnamese and Arabic to survive in their respective countries. He deduced that most of her knowledge came from wartime experience and was born out of necessity. He knew several languages himself, German and Russian dominating his linguistic abilities.

When she hung up, she had moved close to where he was settled on the sofa, watching her. She reached for his plate on the coffee table and he caught her wrist in his metal hand. He watched as her whole body tensed and her eyes locked with his, cautious. She was on the defense, though he had never truly given her a reason to be with him yet. He guessed it was a force of habit and was gentle when he pulled her into his lap. She came reluctantly, confusion written all over her pretty features as she settled astride him.

"I remember," he said quietly, bringing his flesh hand up to cup her cheek. "I remember you... us."

She smiled a little bit, but any excitement she might feel at his revelation was suppressed. He didn't blame her. There was no guarantee he would remember come tomorrow. And he didn't know if she had moved on from him. Though his wanderings of her apartment made it clear that there wasn't a man in her life outside of Steve and Tony Stark.

"I remember Lovecraft, and dancing," he continued, checking her expression and encouraged by it that he was indeed remembering things important to them. "And art. I remember a tent and... you were cleaning my wounds. And I wanted you."

He wanted her now and he knew he was doing a poor job of hiding his desire. He didn't think he had had sex in the time he worked for HYDRA, though it was hard to know anything about that seventy years. So many things had been done to him and most of it cruel. It was a safe bet that he had not. Had she? Did it matter to him?

She was blushing and he found that light pink color endearing. He leaned up and touched his lips to hers tentatively. She didn't pull away but she did tense again. When they did break apart she looked away quickly, biting her lip.

"You don't have to do this," she said, softly. "You hardly know me anymore."

"You are one of the only things I know."

"You shouldn't do this for that reason."

"I want to."

She looked at him then and he wondered if he'd been reading her wrong this whole time. The thought scared him and he had the urge to retreat to a corner and hide. He didn’t realize how much he had come to rely on her love for him. The thought that he could he wrong about her was almost too much to bear.

"Why," she asked, deepening his doubt.

“I loved you… didn’t I?”

“Yes."

"And... you love me?"

She didn't answer for a long time and he felt himself growing sick with anxiety. He had never been allowed to feel once he belonged to HYDRA and the flood of emotions he was feeling about this, everything in general, was frightening. He suddenly felt trapped with her there in his lap, and the panic was setting in. He barely heard he speak through the noise in his head.

"Always." And suddenly it all stopped; the noise, the panic, the doubt and he wondered how one word from her could hold that much power. "I never stopped, James."

He pulled her in and kissed her again, this time with more fervor. His metal arm was wrapped as tight as he dared around her while his right hand found its way into her hair. She responded equally, not pulling away except to catch her breath.

"Is this okay," he asked, breathing against her lips.

"Yeah," she said. "Don't stop."

Again he claimed her mouth in a full bodied kiss, unable to suppress the groan in his throat as she pressed herself to him. Her hands were sliding through his hair and it felt good to be touched in such a simple way. He paused in his kisses a moment to savor the feeling of her fingernails on his scalp while she pressed kisses to his face, showering him with affection he had been longing for. He nuzzled into her, his right hand slowly sliding over her, familiarizing himself with her body again, unbuttoning her shirt to touch the warm flesh under it. He tasted her skin, nibbling at her shoulder, having only her reactions to guide him. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, relying completely on instinct to guide him. He knew he must have been doing something right when she rolled her hips against his, slowly enough to be hesitating. He kissed her, seizing her hips in both hands and encouraging her to do it again until she moved of her own volition.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we should take this elsewhere," she breathed. He nodded and wrapped his metal arm around her again and pushed himself up off the sofa. He smiled a little as she squeaked and her legs tightened around him. There was little chance of dropping her and he could hear his arm recalibrating to compensate for her weight.

Once he had her on the bed, he hesitated, unsure where to go from here. He knew how sex worked, but what he didn't know was what she wanted. Did she want to just jump right into it or was she expecting foreplay, and if she was, what did she like? What was she expecting of him? He couldn't remember specifics about what they did before. Just that they had done it. And he was starting to panic.

"Hey," Andy said gently. "Don't over think it. Take off your shirt."

He did as instructed and she pushed him onto his back. She then slipped out of her pants and sat astride him again. It was quite the sight for him, her in nothing but her bra and panties on top of him, and his hands slid up her thighs to her hips. She leaned down and kissed him and he let his hands explore higher, running his fingers up her spine and was thrilled when she arched under his touch, moaning into his mouth. Her kisses then moved down, over his jaw, to his neck and his chest. Her hand brushed the scarring where metal and flesh married and he jumped, tensing.

"Don't," he said, watching her feeling far too defensive for what they were doing. She eyed him for a long moment before she shifted her gaze to the scars. He knew that look; knew she was calculating. "I said Don't."

Her eyes shifted back to his as she lowered her head slowly and pressed a kiss to the seam. And then another. And another. He relaxed a little, understanding the message in her action; she loved this part of him too. She moved back to his lips and kissed him again before she resumed her downward descent over his torso. Her hands made quick work of his belt and her touch on his sensitive flesh as she freed him from his pants forced a groan out of him. How long had it been since he had known such a touch? He couldn't remember even if he tried, not with her hands on him like this.

He had so lost himself in what her hands were doing that it was a shock when he felt the moist heat of her engulfing him. But it was a welcome one and he pulled her face to his and kissed her hungrily, burning for her. She was moving on him and soft little gasps were escaping her. It was too much and he had been too long without. He wouldn't last and he knew it.

"Wait, stop," he groaned, pushing himself up to sit.

"What's wrong," she asked, holding his face in her hands.

"Nothing. I just need a minute." He nuzzled into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. She held very still on him and he was grateful for the moment of rest, not ready to bring this to such a quick end. He kissed her neck then, his hand working to unclasp her bra, and then let his lips travel to her breasts. She arched her back as he teased the flesh with his teeth and tongue, letting out a moan that excited him all over again.

He flipped her off of him and onto her back, kicked off his pants and settled over her. He looked down at her for a long moment, just taking in the familiarity of it as a memory surfaced. London, he thought, in a musty old room with a creaky old bed. A night when he was sore and tired and trying to make up for too much lost time. This wasn't so different from then at all and he kissed her as he guided himself back into her. She gave him a hearty moan as he did, wrapping her legs around his hips. It felt good to be in control, to set the pace and to make her writhe under him. It was familiar and new all at once and it was a complete thrill. He breathed against her lips between kisses, sharing her breath and lost himself in her eyes as he moved in unison with her.

[ ](http://n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com/post/82962687648/one-of-those-rare-nights)

He didn’t notice the pain of her nails digging into his back or her teeth biting his lip as she slipped over the edge into that sweet oblivion, too focused on the pretty pink flush of her cheeks and the way her eyes were alight. He gathered her tightly to him, following her over, dragged down by her body tensing around his and her breathless cries. As it passed, he nuzzled into her, kissing her tenderly and for a moment, it was 1945 again and he felt like he could take on the world as long as he had her to come home to. And the irony of it was, he did. It took him over seventy years, but he was here now, in her arms like no time had passed at all.

“I love you,” he breathed, stroking her hair and praying he didn’t lose this to the damage HYDRA had done to his mind. He needed to keep this moment, these feelings.

“I love you too. Oh god, Bucky, you have no idea how much.”

He did have a pretty clear idea, though it was hard for him to truly fathom. He had been turned into a mindless killing machine, his body ripped apart and abused. Blood soaked his hands and he’d done truly awful things. He was a monster and yet she was here. She had found him and brought him home and stood by him with the same loyalty she had for him when he was still just Bucky. She didn’t see him as tainted by being the Winter Soldier. That was a love most people would kill for, and he had done nothing to deserve it. Yet he had it all the same and it meant the entire world to him.

He rolled off of her, pulling her to his chest as she started to cry. He tried to imagine what the last seven decades had been like for her, with no solid answers, just being told he was missing. What could that first year have been like? All the waiting, wondering and the regrets, the things she didn’t say to him and those she knew he left unsaid. They’d have to talk about it sooner or later and he wasn’t sure he could watch her relive it for him. The thought of it damn near shattered his heart. He held her tighter, briefly wondering what things would have been like had he come back from that mission and knew the thought had run through her head at least a million times, while this was the first he could truly remember thinking about it. He kissed her forehead, rubbing her back, unsure how else to really comfort her except to hold her like this.

Eventually, she quieted and fell asleep, curled against his side and he watched her for a long time, willing himself to memorize everything about tonight, the memories he regained, the way he felt about her. He was almost afraid to fall asleep, fearing that he would wake up and she would be a stranger again. He couldn’t fight it forever though, so relaxed here with her and exhausted from everything he had been through, that he was drifting off before he was aware of it.

He woke up to a honey colored dawn painting the room in its golden glow and an empty bed. He stared at the unfluffed pillow beside him and pondered over the faint scent of cherry blossoms on the sheets as he pushed himself out of bed. He found his pants on the floor and pulled them on lazily. He then took the hair tie abandoned on the bedside table and pulled his hair back out of his face, the better to run through his morning fitness regime.

[ ](http://n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com/post/82338326975/seba-stan-s-tumblr-brings-me-joy-they-wanted)

When he exited the bedroom, moving into the living space, he saw her. She had to be in her late twenties, possibly early thirties, though he couldn’t place her age exactly. She was approximately 5 foot 3 inches, but leaning against the counter she looked shorter. She was slim, with wide hips and an ample chest, overall pleasing to the eye despite the disheveled state of her appearance. The sweatpants she wore were baggy on her and the tank top was loose enough that it hid the contours of her body. Dog tags were tucked under her shirt. Her unbrushed blonde hair fell to her shoulderblades and her blue eyes were fixed to a spot on the floor in a thousand yard stare as she clutched a steaming coffee cup close to her chest. He watched her for a long time, not moving, reading what he could from her, which wasn’t much. Finally, he cleared his throat. She blinked and looked at him blankly, blinking a couple more times before her eyes focused on him. She smiled and set the mug aside.

“Morning,” she said, more a question than a real greeting. She was eyeing him, waiting for him to say something and he knew he should, that he needed to put that worried look in her eyes to rest.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, watching her shoulders sink as she looked away from him in disappointment. He moved to her, reaching out and cupping her cheek with his flesh hand to bring her eyes back to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home. I’m sorry I put you through all that.”

Her eyes went wide, watering with tears that threatened to spill over. “You remember?”

“Yeah. I still remember.”

“Bucky,” she gasped softly.

“I’m here, Doll,” he answered, his other hand coming up to cradle her face. “I’m here. And I’m not leaving you again if I can help it. I love you too goddamn much.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

He kissed her then, his own eyes stinging from both the overwhelming surge of his own emotions and then relief that he hadn’t relapsed today. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and she broke, sobbing into his neck. “Don’t you ever let go of me, James. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Never again,” he promised, nuzzling into her hair. “Never ever again.”

He didn’t care if it was an irrational and even unrealistic promise. He meant to keep it until they both breathed their last, come hell or highwater. He wasn’t leaving her alone like that again. He couldn’t. He was safe here, wanted and loved. He didn't think he could survive without her again and he didn't want to try. She was alive when she shouldn't be and this was the second chance he shouldn't have. His bionic arm tightened around her, an almost involuntary action. There was no way in hell she would be parted from him again.

[ ](http://n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com/post/81362890434/uggggggg-ok-so-this-is-supposed-to-be-diamondback)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't that fun? Weren't the illustrations the icing on the cake? Mmm, yeah i think this is my favorite. 
> 
> Anyways, the pictures should be clickable and will take you to their ORIGINAL posting of them on Randi's Tumblr.
> 
> Seriously, go support her. Follow her, commission her, buy a t-shirt, make dying whale noises over her art, whatever. She's an awesome, lovely, nerdy, badass lady!
> 
> n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com  
> n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com  
> n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com  
> n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com


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